From their faces, you’d think he’d just lifted his tail and taken a steaming dump in the middle of all this white marble.
But no, that wasn’t quite right, Tamsin realized. The fae nobles were looking at Cuan as though he was an enormous pile of horseshit that had just been tipped into the elegant room.
Cuan ignored the scandalized expressions. He paced past the group, hooves ringing on the tiles.
“Uh.” Tamsin lowered her voice, bending over his neck to get as close to his ear as she could. “I’m kind of getting the impression that it isn’t the done thing to bring a horse into the sidhean.”
“A horse would be fine.” He didn’t stop. “If that was all that I was, we would not attract a second glance.”
“I can walk, you know.”
“Yes. And I can carry you.”
Which he did, despite the stares and whispers, until they reached his own room. Tamsin stared past her dangling feet at the floor. It seemed a very long way down.
“Um,” she said again. “Could you—?”
She’d intended to ask if he could kneel, or at least hunker down a bit, but the words were only halfway out of her mouth when his back disappeared from underneath her.
She yelped, but she’d only fallen a few inches when strong arms caught her. Very carefully, Cuan set her back on her own feet, though he kept one hand braced under her elbow.
“Really, Cuan, I’m fine.” She tried to prove it by striding into his room—and the floor slid out from under her feet. Only Cuan’s hand on her arm kept her upright. “Uh. Okay. Maybe I need a moment, actually. I feel a little weird.”
“As I suspected,” Cuan murmured, steering her to the bed. “You are in battle-shock, Tamsin.”
“But I haven’t been in a battle,” she got out, through teeth that were suddenly chattering. “I-is it just me, or is it r-really cold in here?”
“It is you, though I will build up the fire.” He wrapped a huge fur blanket around her shoulders, piling up more to support her back. “And you have been in a battle, for hours upon end, whether you have been aware of it or not. You have been in constant danger from the moment you arrived in my world. There is only so long that your body can stay at the peak of alertness, poised to fight or flee.”
Her legs seemed to have stopped working. She only just had enough strength to release Angus before sinking back into the soft furs. Her pet poked her cheek with his cold wet nose, whining in worry.
“It’s okay, baby,” She petted him, as best she could with her hand shaking like a leaf. “I’ll be fine. Just…need a minute.”
“What you need is peace and safety.” Cuan was over by the fireplace, chivvying the smoldering embers into a roaring blaze. He hung a copper kettle on a hook over the flames. “Alas, what I can offer is tea.”
“Tea would be amazing.”
It turned out to be herbal, but by that point Tamsin would have drunk boiled pine needles. She cupped her hands around the steaming mug, sipping the fragrant brew gratefully. Slowly, heat penetrated through to her bones, stopping her shivers.
Cuan sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, watching her. He’d removed his sodden armor, hanging it up to dry, but his wet, crumpled shirt still clung to his broad shoulders. She realized she was staring at the lines of his faemarks, half-visible through the translucent linen, and jerked her eyes up again.
He caught her gaze, holding it. She was struck again by how different his eyes were compared to his animal forms—deep green and guarded, revealing almost nothing of his thoughts. The flickering firelight cast half his face in darkness, hiding his expression.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much.” Tamsin lowered the mug with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I feel stupid, collapsing in a puddle like this.”
He shook his head, his long hair shifting over his collar. “Dragged into a strange place, surrounded by danger…the only wonder is that you have not faltered before now. You have a will of pure iron, Tamsin. But even iron will crack eventually, when subjected to constant blows.”
“The whole Neifion thing hit me harder than I thought,” Tamsin admitted. “The way he messed with my head, without me even being aware of it…if you hadn’t stopped me, I would have jumped straight onto his back without a second thought.”
“Kelpies cannot help the allure that they cast. And he truly meant you no harm.”
“I know, but still. If he had, there wouldn’t have been anything I could have done to stop him.”
She shuddered, taking another sip of tea. No matter how she tried not to dwell on it, she couldn’t help going back to that moment when Cuan had knocked her away from Neifion. How awareness had flooded back, that sharp instant of horrified realization of what she’d almost done…
“I hate this,” she burst out, unable to stop herself. “All this glamour stuff, I mean. The one thing I’ve always been able to count on is myself. But now I can’t even trust my own mind. It makes me feel so helpless.”
Cuan stood up, so abruptly that for an instant she was certain he’d detected some threat. But he didn’t summon his swords. He only bowed to her, deep and low.
“I will have food sent to you,” he said, straightening again. “Please, stay within these chambers. You will be safe here until I return.”
“Huh?” She was talking to his back. She sat up, tea sloshing over her hand. “Cuan, wait! Where are you going?”
He paused at the door, glancing back at her. His face was set in the same expression as when he’d fought for her—calm, focused, and utterly certain.
“To do something,” he said, “which I should have done when you first arrived.”